Sleepy Habits
by cheesycheese
Summary: They might be fearless heroes, but they can be hopelessly cute at times.
1. Chapter 1

**I wrote this when I should have been studying because oh my god Virgil totally looks like that big bulky guy who's really very calm and adorable. Read and review please!**

**I might continue this? Idk.**

* * *

Scott Tracy walks through the living room, still breathing hard from his morning run. The bottle of water is chilled in his hand and his t shirt and hair cling uncomfortably to his skin with sweat. The sun hasn't even risen properly, giving everything that soft, sleepy feel. He's planning on getting in a nice shower before he gets breakfast and goes down to help Brains when he notices the television playing some animated movie and a tuft of hair visible over the back of the couch.

Shaking his head at weird younger brothers, namely Virgil in this case, because Scott can recognize his brothers by every weird way possible. He walks over to turn off the tv to turn it off and leave his brother to his sleep, because its at least six hours before he's due to emerge, when he properly looks at Virgil and stops dead in his tracks.

Virgil Tracy, powerhouse of the Tracy Family, is curled up into the arm of the couch and tucked into a blanket. Like a _child_.

Scott coos before he can stop himself and has to slap a hand over his mouth, hoping no one heard his fearless field commander self sound so sappy. Virgil sleeps on, head resting against the armrest, legs pulled up and blanket to his nose. All Scott can really see is messy hair and peacefully closed eyes, plus the rise and fall of his brothers chest. It's so admittedly cute that Scott has to physically keep his hand over his mouth to keep from cooing again, before he takes his phone out of his pocket and snaps a picture.

It's for blackmail purposes, of course. Its not at all because Virgil is bigger than all the Tracy men but looks unbelievably small cuddled into a blanket.

The fond smile creeping back onto his face, Scott leaves his brother to it.

* * *

He forgets about it at breakfast until Gordon swipes his phone and Virgil looks like his usual half-dead-before-noon self. His redhead terror is laughing hysterically the next second, almost falling off his chair in his haste to show Alan, seated two seats to his left. Scott doesn't snatch it back fast enough, and Alan's laughter spurs Gordon on even more, and the two fall over themselves in hysterics.

Scott growls at Gordon to leave his stuff alone, feeling oddly possessive of his picture. Gordon doesn't even seem to be listening, and Virgil takes advantage of Scott's distraction and plucks the phone from his hand. The anticipatory grin falls from his face, and the look of pure betrayal that he sends him has Scott joining in with Alan and Gordon's laughter, even as he grabs his phone back so Virgil can't delete it.

Soon, everybody has seen the picture. Grandma Tracy's pinching a grumbling Virgil's cheek, who true to his easy going self, rolls his eyes at everybody's laughter and mostly mock cooing. John calls to check in, and his dad shows him the picture as well, making Virgil flush even redder. John lets out a high "aww!" before he can help himself, then somehow flushes even redder than Virgil and disconnects as fast as he can as the family bursts into renewed hysterics. Virgil face palms, although everyone can see the grin playing on his face, before shooting a very pointed look at Scott to let him know he is not one bit fooled by his older brothers laughter.

The klaxon sounds the next second, and the whole thing is forgotten amidst rushed bites and thundering feet.

* * *

Jeff feels the need to check in on all his boys tonight. He can't remember the last rescue that was as bad as this one had been. Twenty children dead, buried in an avalanche, and the personal attachment has Jeff sure he's going to be having nightmares as soon as he closes his eyes. His boys had seen the destruction first hand, and even though they're all adults, the father in him won't rest until he checks on them.

He heads over to Virgil's room, having checked on the rest and having untangled Gordon from his blankets. Walking in, he has to stop himself from grinning like a fool, the month old memory making its way into his heavy thoughts.

Just like in that picture that Virgil had never found and Scott had never let anyone else find for their insidious purposes, his middle child is curled into a small ball. It's such a ridiculous sight to see, Virgil taking up around one fourth of his giant bed, tucked into a corner and snoring softly. Quietly rounding the bed brings the bandaged cut on his cheek and the slight frown on his forehead into view, and its enough to wipe the grin off his face.

He's suddenly hit with the realization that it's been a while since he checked on his older boys at night, because he can't remember Virgil every sleeping like this. He wonders when it started, because the rest of them sleep like they have for years. Scott still sleeps on his back, never completely relaxed, four younger brothers and the Air Force keeping that habit. John, Jeff is sure, still sleeps contentedly on his side. Alan always sleeps on his back, but is always tossing and turning and falling off of his bed. Gordon is the same, although he doesn't fall off, he somehow always gets tangled in his blankets. Jeff has spent too many nights untangling a redhead of various heights from his bed sheets. Virgil, he is sure, would always sleep on his stomach, dead to the world. Maybe its only when he's very tired, he muses.

Sighing, Jeff picks up the discarded blanket off the floor and spreads it over his son, wondering why he's not cold in the ridiculous Star Trek t shirt he's always wearing and his sweats. Instantly, Virgil cuddles into the blanket. Jeff can't resist running his fingers through the shower damp hair, even as he reminds himself that his son is 25 years old and doesn't need constant coddling. The little sigh Virgil lets out, along with the frown relaxing from his face, has Jeff smiling once again.

He spends a few more seconds smoothing back the soft hair, as much for his own sake as Virgil's, and when he's sure his son is properly relaxed, he sneaks in his own picture and leaves, content that his boys are alright.

* * *

When John is back on Earth for a break from his rotation, he's still getting used to having gravity under his feet. He'd tripped while trying to run down the stairs and fallen, breaking his wrist and giving himself a minor concussion. Virgil had been the only one home, and had reamed him out for being so careless before more or less carrying him to the infirmary. John had then been subjected to some very irritated fixing up, then given some strong painkillers, right before his head had stopped spinning enough for him to realize that hey he's the older brother in this situation.

Waking up, and fighting that weird post-drugs wooziness, John sees Scott across the room, engrossed in his medical chart, and he just knows he's going to catch hell for his carelessness. Glancing around, he sees his previously irate younger brother asleep on the chair next to him. He feels a pang of guilt, because he knows Virgil hates when they get hurt, more-so because he has to fix them up and see them in pain. Now, he has an expertly done cast on his arm and he's still grumbling about it before he realizes Virgil looks really, really adorable.

He bites his lip to keep from laughing/squealing at his burly brother curled up like a cat. He's not even sure how Virgil managed to bring his legs up onto the small chair and keep them there, although he can't help but notice how stressed he looks. He's hit with another pang of guilt when he realizes Virgil is there to monitor his concussion before a very pointed throat clearing makes him jump.

He blushes slightly when he realizes Scott's probably seen him staring. John'd forgotten he was there. He's subjected to his older brothers very pointed, very raised eyebrow which promises hell once he's feeling a bit better, and John bites down another urge to laugh. Scott's eyes flicker over to Virgil and his face softens, and they both share a fond look. The moment passes when Scott squishes his cheeks between his hands and silently mimes Johns "aww!" the last time he'd seen Virgil like this, and John flips him off with his good hand while trying to smother his laughter. Concussions always give him a weird sense of humor.

Virgil snuffles in his sleep before he settles back down again, and his older brothers share a reluctant but knowing look, because they can hear Alan and Gordon approaching. A quick game of rock paper scissors has Scott grumbling as he moves to wake his middle brother to spare him some teasing.

* * *

The youngest two eventually figure out that cat-Virgil is not a one time thing, and Virgil doesn't escape the merciless teasing. Everybody else's teasing is mostly token, because individually they're all afraid that Virgil will somehow stop doing it. Virgil rolls with the barbs and lets his younger brothers have their fun, although he does try to keep his sleeping confined to his room. As deep as he sleeps, he knows he doesn't really have a shot at stopping. Most times, though, he's so tired he falls asleep somewhere else, and has to deal with his younger idiot brothers teasing with some admittedly clever jokes.

* * *

Gordon walks slowly into Thunderbird Two, having been given the task of retrieving Virgil. The middle Tracy still had not emerged for debriefing, and everyone assumed he was trying to wipe out every single speck of mud left by the rescued victims in his beloved machine. Leaving his exhausted brothers to go shower, Gordon had hastily agreed, fully intending to apologize to Virgil as soon as he saw him.

He'd been forbidden from going on the rescue by the medic, saying Gordon's back still wasn't at a hundred percent after he'd overdone it on their last rescue. Gordon had lost his temper, and yelled some nasty things at Virgil. Things Gordon is ashamed to say he doesn't even remember most of. By the furious look underlined with hurt on Virgil's face before he'd stormed off without a word, along with the fierce glare Scott had given him before he'd echoed Virgil's order, he'd said some pretty horrid stuff.

He's still drowning in shame, just like he has been since his back seized up again fifteen minutes after they'd left. It was an admitted sore spot for him, recognizing that his back still wasn't at a hundred percent after his accident, but Virgil had been right. It probably would have seized up on the rescue, and all Gordon had done was yell at Virgil for something that wasn't his fault.

The mud from the rescue is still all over the floor, and Gordon frowns as he walks into the cockpit. Then bites his lip to keep from laughing.

His brother is fast asleep in his seat, head leaned back against the board, somehow fitting all of himself onto the chair. The desire to laugh vanishes the next second, as he notices Virgil's hair and uniform is caked with mud and he has dark bags under his eyes. It'd been a busy week for International Rescue. The guilt returns full force as he realizes that Virgil probably had to pick up the slack since Gordon hadn't been there to help him.

Sighing, he quickly checks that the post-flight checks are complete before he reaches out to gently shake Virgil's shoulder. His older brother jerks awake, looking around before he sees Gordon. He sighs and digs his palms into his eyes the next second as he uncurls himself, and Gordon vaguely feels sad about that because his brother had looked kinda peaceful before wary, bloodshot eyes meet his.

"I really don't want to fight, Gordy", is all he says, and Gordon has to gulp down the emotion before he just shakes his head and offers Virgil a hand up. His brothers face relaxes minutely as he reads the sincere apology in on Gordon's face before he takes the offered hand. They both make their way out of the thunderbird, accompanied only by Gordon's Chewbacca impersonation and Virgil's exaggerated groans.

* * *

Alan's head aches something awful as he wakes up and so does his ankle, although he can still feel the weird numbness thats accompanied by painkillers. He knows where he is before he opens his eyes and yup he's in the infirmary.

He blinks against the semi darkness and the fuzziness as he tries to move, and the stab of pain has him aborting that mission almost as soon as he's started. He registers his father sleeping on the chair next to him, still fully dressed, legs stretched out in front of him and he'd lolling forward. Besides him, propped against the chair, is Virgil.

Alan has a flash of Virgil's panicked face as he'd tried to catch his youngest brother as the floor of the burning building had crumbled under him, and missed. He was very lucky in retrospect, but Virgil had been thoroughly shaken up. He'd looked more panicked than Alan has seen him in a while, eyes full of tears behind his visor, when he'd dug him out of all the rubble.

Right now, still covered head to toe in soot, he's fast asleep and curled up in that ridiculous way Alan always makes fun of him for. His arm is wrapped around his knees, which in turn pillows his head. The next second Alan notices a hand loosely holding his own and he jerks a little in surprise because wow concussions make him slow. It's Virgil's, still covered in the minor burns he'd promised their father he was off to go clean.

But his brother is still here, keeping watch over him, and Alan feels a rush of gratitude at being lucky enough to have a family who cares so much. Family that sleeps on uncomfortable chairs or curled up against said uncomfortable chairs with sooty hair in their eyes and burnt hands just to make sure he was okay.

When Alan swallows and looks away, contemplating waking up his older brother, his father is awake and watching him, his face fond but concerned. He looks down at Virgil and his and Alan's hands and sighs, although his look stays fond.

"He's so dumb", Alan croaks out, voice still rough from all the smoke he's inhaled, not able to keep the emotion out of his voice. His father just chuckles as the little alarm clock on the bedside table set for his concussion checks goes off and his sooty older brother jerks awake.

* * *

When Virgil is evacuating a building half demolished by an earthquake, an aftershock hits that has him falling through the floor. He's not as lucky as Alan had been, falling two stories down. It'd taken Scott, Alan and Gordon close to an hour to dig him out of the rubble, unconscious and bleeding. He comes out of it with a badly broken leg, broken ribs and a severe concussion.

He's ordered off duty for two months at least, and the Tracy family watches their once calm powerhouse turn completely irritable after he's discharged. He snaps at everybody when they try to take care of him, and is furious at the fact that he cant even keep himself busy. He can't play his piano with his cast in the way, and he can't use his arms long enough to draw or paint before his abused chest starts screaming in agony. The concussion leads to horrid headaches that leave him hiding in his dark room, trying to ride them out. The only time anyone can check on him without having to sneak around in case they get their head bitten off is when he's sleeping, and it only makes everything worse.

Virgil doesn't curl up in his sleep anymore.

Everybody knows that he physically can't at the moment, but to see their once adorable sleeper holding himself rigid even in his sleep weighs on all of them. Even Alan and Gordon seem openly concerned. Virgil has never gotten hurt this badly before; he's usually the one fixing them up and bugging them to take care of themselves. To see him in the pain he's in is a new, very unwelcome experience.

About three weeks in, he develops a cold, and the constant sneezing has him in agony. He firmly refuses additional painkillers, already sick of the dependency and trying to wean himself off. The family takes charge when Scott finds him throwing up in his bathroom, more or less sobbing from the pain. Brains gives him some stronger painkillers for the next few days, and he spends most of it in a drugged sleep, rigid as a board the whole time.

Gradually, he gets better. The cast on his leg comes off, although his ribs still bother him. His mood slowly improves, particularly now that he can focus on his music and art. He's still grounded, however, and still occasionally snaps, but mostly grumbles good-naturedly about someone getting to drive his precious 'Bird.

* * *

When the brothers walk in from a rescue late one night, intending to shower before their debriefing, they find Virgil asleep on the couch. He's wearing the ridiculous squid pajamas Gordon had given him, but what has everyone stopping is how he's curled up at the edge. One hand is curled around his still sore ribs and the other pillows his head, but he's snoring softly and looks more peaceful than anyone has seen him look in a very long time.

They're all smiling fondly at him, an invisible weight off their shoulders, even Alan and Gordon not trying to hide it. They both head off to their respective rooms and Scott gives into the urge and goes to tuck Virgil into the blanket thrown over the couch. Scott knows he's still smiling stupidly, and he completely ignores the clucking noises Alan and Gordon make, especially as Virgil snuffles softly and burrows into the fluffy blanket

It feels way too good to have his brother back.


	2. Chapter 2

**This might turn into a series now...watching tunnels of time only made my love for my little ginger baby grow even more, and I just had to write this!**

**If anyone has any ideas for sleepy things the other boys do, let me know.**

* * *

Thunder rages outside little Alan Tracy's window, and the four year old does not like it one bit. He scoots further down into his blanket, wishing with all his heart that he could run down the hall to Scotty's bedroom. Scotty would make it better, but he had a cold and Alan was told to stay away from him.

Rain starts battering against the window and Alan pokes his head out of his blanket and tries focusing on the christmas tree nightlight Virgil had painted for him, but to no avail. The pretty frosted green glass does nothing to erase the loud noises. A particularly loud bolt has him jumping, and makes up his mind for him. He's going to have to risk Gordy teasing him for being a baby.

Alan quickly gets out of bed, bringing his blanket with him as a cape, and scampers over to the other bed in the room as quickly as little legs will allow. The patter of his feet is barely noticeable with all the noise outside.

"Gordy." He hisses, poking his older brothers shoulder. The redhead stays dead to the world. More thunder makes Alan jump again, and he pokes Gordon harder, heartbeat thumping in his chest. Being out of bed is only making him more scared, and his older brother is too busy sleeping! Desperately, Alan starts pushing, and Gordon finally gives an unhappy huff and rolls over, still fast asleep. The little blonde wastes no time and quickly clambers on, jamming himself into his brother back, trying his best to not cry as another bolt makes the house shake.

Gordon, finally realizing the other presence in his bed, rolls over and slings an arm around his little brothers shoulder. Half a blanket comes with the arm, and Alan quickly scoots under it, burying his face in the soft pajama shirt. His heart is still racing from that really loud bolt, but having Gordon awake makes him feel a little less scared.

"Y'ok?" Comes the slurred question, voice still hazy with sleep, and Alan finds himself shaking his head before he can stop himself. With the fear dwindling a little, he's starting to remember that Gordon always teases him for being scared, and he's really hoping this won't be one of those times. He's tired and scared and the house is still shaking slightly and he just wants someone to hold him and make it all better. Questioning brown eyes look down at him and Alan whispers "scared" before he ducks his head away. Gordon mumbles something Alan doesn't catch, and his heart lifts when Gordon starts trying to cover him with his own blanket.

Alan mutters that he already has his own, cuddling into the eight year old now that he knows he's not going to be laughed at. Gordon either ignores him or doesn't hear, and continues to struggle sleepily with the blanket, not realizing that both him and Alan are lying on it. Arm already slung over Alan, he tries to just yank it from the other side, but only suceeds in bringing the small four year old with it. Alan yelps, and finds himself pulled over Gordon, and with how hard Gordon has pulled, tumbling over his brothers side of the small bed.

Gordon comes with the blanket he's tangled in as well, and they both find themselves on the floor, fall cushioned by the thick blanket wrapped all around them now. They both just blink at each other, and the comical looks of surprise on each others faces has them giggling helplessly the next second. They're both hopelessly stuck in a mess of limbs and each others blankets. Through his laughter, Alan is oddly reminded of the pillow fort he'd made with his older brothers, and how he'd slept in Scott's arms. Alan and Gordon both halfheartedly try to escape, before giving up all together and just settling on the floor. Gordon reaches up and gets a pillow from the bed, and they both snuggle close into it. Feeling oddly content in his blanket prison and his older brothers arms, Alan realizes why he remembers the pillow fort. It's the same feeling of softness and safety he feels now in his older brothers arms, something he doesn't usually get with Gordon. Alan sighs and dozes off against his protectors chest, storm forgotten and raging in the background. With a very insincere grumble about annoying little brothers, Gordon Tracy rests his cheek against the soft blonde hair and falls into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

Jeff is sure he's probably a terrible father for thinking this, but his sons are so odd. Some of the things they do make him want to just lie down for a few hours and reflect on his choices. But he loves them, despite the fact that they're responsible for most of the grey hair on his head. They're the ones who've helped him make his dream into a reality, who've grown into fine young men who support each other through their lives.

Peeking his head into Gordon's room, however, he finds the thought running through his head again. He'll be the first to admit his son is very unusual at times. He loves him, but dear lord, he is an odd one.

His grown son is tangled up in his comforter again. The comforter weaves around his legs and the corner lies over his chest, and as Jeff moves closer, Gordon, still deeply asleep, grabs the corner and attempts to cover himself. He only ends up yanking it tighter around his legs, and starts shifting to compensate, despite the fact he's lying on most of it.

Jeff sighs. It's oddly endearing yet frustrating at the same time, a combination that is so Gordon that Jeff can never quite suppress his smile.

He really hasn't changed at all, he thinks wryly, as he yanks the comforter out straight from under Gordon. He's learnt that that's the best way to do it through his years of experience. His son whines and bats out a hand as he's basically flipped over, although he's still asleep and misses Jeff completely. Jeff just rolls his eyes, smile still tugging at his lips. He can't stop thinking about all the times he's done this for a tiny and mid-sized redhead as he properly covers his son with the fluffy comforter.

Gordon just mumbles out a "thanks" and sleeps on, hands already beginning to tug at the comforter over them. Pretty soon, all of his hard work will have been for nothing, and round two of Gordon versus the blanket will begin. Jeff just ruffles his sons tousled hair, cuts his losses and turns to leave.

* * *

Virgil's eyes are burning and his head is pounding, and he's so tired he could cry, but it's only half an hour until Gordon's next concussion check, so he's stubbornly trying to stay awake. He's very tempted to get Scott back to the infirmary to do it, but after the lecture he gave his older brother on properly resting his sprained wrist, the idea doesn't sound very appealing. Plus, his eldest brother will just start fawning over the both of them. Virgil also knows that he's not going to get any sleep if he leaves Gordon here. He always need to keep an eye on or be close to whoever gets hurt if he wants to catch even a wink of sleep.

Leaning his elbow on the mattress of Gordon's bed, he props his head on his hand, using the other one to loosen Gordon's fist from around the blanket over him. His brother tries to grab it back, and Virgil rolls his eyes and moves it away. Gordon decides to over compensate and turns over from his position on his back to his side, clumsily snagging his leg in the blanket and bringing it with him, leaving his back and other leg uncovered. Virgil just blinks tiredly at the uncovered limb and sighs. It feels like he's spent the last three hours after chasing his family away from the infirmary making sure Gordon stays covered up. His troublemaker of a sibling continues to torment him even when he's asleep. One glance at the peaceful look on Gordon's face wipes the irritation away, fading into the sense of relief that hasn't faded since they got back from the rescue and Virgil was properly able to check him over.

The crack that had resonated through the air when Gordon had fallen and smashed his head on the platform rings through his ears again, and Virgil has to shake it away. They had all been tired, and one of them was bound to slip up. Unconsciously, Virgil finds himself gripping Gordon's hand, latching onto the feeling of relief because he knows Gordon will be okay. He'd been lucky; his concussion isn't too bad, he had been pretty lucid at his last concussion check, and the morphine seems to have taken the edge off the pain. Plus, Gordon had looked irritated as hell when him and Scott had yelled at him for being so careless. Virgil is taking that as a good sign.

Finding himself unable to let go of his little brothers hand just yet, Virgil just reaches over and covers him back up, lips quirking at the lime green sleeping shorts. His vision is starting to blur, so he finally accepts defeat and sets the little alarm on the bedside table to go off in twenty minutes. He pillows his head on his free arm on the mattress, and focuses on the feeling of Gordon's strong pulse under his thumb. The hand under his is already twitching and the bedclothes under his arm are starting to shift. Smiling, Virgil grips the hand tighter and lets his gritty eyes fall shut.

* * *

Scott knows he should stop gritting his teeth so hard, and he tries his best as he stomps along the dark hallway. Really, he does. But part of him is afraid that if he stops, he'll start screaming curses and wake up the entire island. His grandmother would have his hide for that kind of behavior, never mind the fact that Scott is a grown man. Not that being a grown man matters to certain people, such as his disaster of a sibling.

Still seething, blue tinted hands reach up to push wet hair away as Scott reaches the door he'd set out for. He's tired and sore, but he's going to pummel Gordon all the more for it. The immaturity is mind boggling. To put blue dye into his shower gel after such a tough couple of days, full to the brim with demanding rescues, has him itching for revenge. A part of him knows this was a relatively harmless prank, and it only got onto his hands before he realized what the gel actually was, but his tired mind stubbornly pushes the thoughts away. He angrily throws the door open, blinking his eyes against the unexpected light. Gordon is lying on his side facing away from him on the bed,and doesn't even twitch, but wether he's pretending or not doesn't really matter to Scott as he charges forward, fully intending to rip the redhead up and throw him into the pool.

He stops the next second as everything fully registers past the anger clouding his vision. The lights are still on. And Gordon...he's still wearing his uniform. Scott moves a little closer, brow creasing in frustration. The uniform is still covered in soot, and so is Gordon, and despite some part of him trying to hold on to his righteous anger, it slips away into concern. The concern intensifies when he catches the brace covered wrist cradled against his little brothers chest.

He kneels down and searches his little brothers face. Exhaustion lines the soot covered features, and Scott reaches a hand out before he can stop himself, the other one hovering over the apparently injured wrist. He hadn't even known Gordon was injured, and feels a flare of anger at him and Virgil.

"Gordon." He says gently, shaking his shoulder. Gordon doesn't even stir. "Gordon!"

The harder shake has Gordon frowning.

"Hn...what?"

"Are you okay?"

"'M fine Scott..." comes the mumbled reply, face burying into the pillow. His eyes don't even open. "Go 'way, 'm tired."

"You didn't even clean up, Gordy." He says imploringly, the concern in his own voice prominent even to his ears as he gently pushes back auburn hair. "Listen to me, this is important, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

A sigh, then bloodshot but clear eyes blink open, and Scott feels a bit of the fear ebb away. "'m just tired Scott."

"Your wrist? Is your back okay?"

"Virg already.." A yawn as the tired eyes fell shut again. "checked me over. 'S just a sprain..and 'm sore"

"Okay." Scott's already weighing the pro's and con's of waking Virgil up to confirm, because Scott is sure he's already asleep at this ungodly hour, but Gordon looks like he's telling the truth. He decides to let it go. "Come on, Gordy, let's get you cleaned up."

"I'm really tired Scott." Gordon whispers, and the pleading tone wrenches at Scott's heart. His little brother does look completely wiped. "I just got comfy..don' wanna move."

Scott sighs, because that sounds about right. Usually, when Gordon finds a position that doesn't hurt his back, he tends to not move. Still, the big brother in him won't let him just walk away, so he tells Gordon to hold on and comes back a minute later with a wet rag. Ignoring the groaning, Scott methodically but gently cleans the soot off Gordon's face and hands. His brother drifts off while he's cleaning the soot off of his nails, the hand he's holding going limp in his own blue tinted one. He's too worried to even be irritated, and he drops the dirty rag on the bedside table when he's done and smooths messy, sooty hair off of Gordon's forehead. He's itching to drag him up and make him shower and eat something, but he can't bring himself to wake up his exhausted little brother. He forgets sometimes that Gordon does most of the grunt work with Virgil, despite his seemingly permanent relaxed mood.

Straightening up, Scott eyes the comforter Gordon is lying mostly on top off and wonders if he should try doing something about it. In the end, he settles on just pulling off the dirty boots, not wanting to risk hurting his brothers back. He does look pretty comfortable.. somehow. The mumbled swearing and feeble kicking has him rolling his eyes even as he smiles and casts them aside, the concern dying down at the familiar actions. Shaking his head, Scott just throws another blanket on top of the now snoring redhead, flicks off the light, and turns to leave, not even surprised anymore that he walked in intending to murder his brother and ended up tucking him in.

Still mumbling about little siblings being the actual death of him, he almost runs into his other exhausted albeit clean little brother at the door, who's holding a rag and a bowl of water. Virgil blinks red rimmed eyes in surprise at him, and Scott just shows him the dirty rag in his hand with a sheepish smile. Virgil gives him and his blue tinted hands a look, peeks past to see a comfortable looking Gordon, and grins wryly at his oldest brother before he turns to leave. Scott follows him and they silently walk over to the lab, hoping Brains is still awake to help get the dye off.

* * *

John tries to stop the tears trickling down his cheeks, but he can't. Gently holding his battered little brothers' bandaged hand against his face, John realizes this is the first time he's been alone with Gordon since the hydrofoil crash. Closing his eyes against the machinery and the person almost unrecognizable behind all the swelling and bandages, he tries to imagine the cheeky redhead the way he should be; smiling, happy and whole.

They've always been close, even though their personalities are miles apart. While Virgil and Alan gravitated towards Scott, Gordon had always gone to John. They seemed to bring out the best in each other. Gordon was the loud to John's quiet, the impulsive to his cautious self. John seemed to calm the energetic redhead when he needed it, and Gordon would somehow rope John into his schemes when the blonde got a little too quiet.

John has so many memories of the trouble they got up to that he's suddenly choking down a sob, but he doesn't dare open his eyes and look at the broken figure in front of him. He lets himself get lost in the memories; memories of a little Gordon chattering excitedly and dragging him out of his room to come play, coming to him crying when he got into trouble for his schemes, hiding with him in the most unusual places when they had set something up and were waiting for the fallout. Memories of the time they hid under Scott's bed as they waited for him to fall asleep, with Scott yelling at them later for drawing on his face. Gordon tricking Alan into putting whipped cream on their dad's bed, then running to him crying about how unfair it was that he was the one who got into trouble. Whispering together on John's bed as they tried to decide how to tie Virgil onto his bed without waking him, before deciding to go with duct tape. With his analytical mind and Gordon's devious one, they had been a force to reckon with when they had been younger. Then John had gone to college and Gordon had gone to WASP, and here they are. They had drifted apart before they'd even realized it, and John can't remember the last time they did something together, just the two of them.

He's stopped trying to stop the tears at this point, and the flow freely as John finally opens his eyes and reaches over to smooth down the already creaseless blanket over Gordon. Gordon just lies there completely still, and John is hit with another flood of memories, of Gordon weaved into his blankets like some sort of badly wrapped present. He chuckles through his tears before his face crumples, a proper sob leaving his mouth. His little redhead might not ever wake up, might be brain damaged, might never walk, all things that Gordon of all people does not deserve. He's sobbing in earnest before he knows it, holding the bandaged hand to his face even as he feels someone put their arms around him with soft words of comfort. He's too far gone to care or try to stop, the heaving of his chest doing nothing to quench the pain underneath, and the only thing running through is head is his hope to god that he has the chance to untangle his brother from his blankets and laugh at his grumbling just one more time.

* * *

John gets the chance two months later, after what feels like a lifetime of struggle and pain and tears; he walks into Gordon's room at the rehabilitation center and finds an exhausted redhead with his arms wrapped into his blanket as they rest onto his chest, and John definitely starts crying and laughing at the same time when he tries to free him and his little brother swears at him in his sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm sorry this took so long. This is part one, and I'm not sure if you guys still want more? Let me know, I'm planning on doing one for everyone.

This is Scott's turn, and I want him to be a cute big brother forever because that is all I need in life. And I bet he's long used to keeping an eye on everyone, even when he's asleep.

* * *

Scott Tracy determinedly keeps his face buried into his pillow, trying his best not to shake with laughter. Oblivious, little Alan Tracy giggles quietly, little feet pattering into the room as silently as a four year old could manage. Which, not surprisingly, is not very quietly.

Reflexes honed to perfection by a decade of big brother experience, Scott has been perfectly aware of his baby brothers movements as soon as he came into the room. He's not going to give the game away, though, partly because he doesn't have the heart to burst the little boys bubble, and partly because he wants to see what he'll try. Scott hopes he tries to scare him awake. He has great fun playing along every time, and it seems to make Alan incredibly happy thinking he was able to get the drop on his eldest brother.

Sure enough, a tiny giggle sounds right next to his ear, and Scott hopes Alan can't see his cheek twitching with how hard he's smiling. The next second, his baby brother screams a very shrill "BOO!" and the performance begins. Scott lets out a very unmanly shriek and jumps backwards, trying his best not to smile as he stares at his brother in mock shock. Alan starts giggling hysterically, all rumpled pajamas and ruffled hair. Scott clutches at his heart and lets his upper body fall off the opposite side of the bed, hanging there dramatically.

"The horror! Oh, the horror!" He wails, smiling now that he knows Alan can't see him. The laughing toddler scampers onto the bed and Scott wipes off the smile, blood rushing to his head as his hair brushes the floor.

"I scared you! I did!" He squeals in between fits of laughter, clambering onto Scott's chest and peeking down at him. Scott flips over, making sure Alan is safely on the bed before he slithers down onto the floor dramatically, gasping.

"Oh god, there's so much dust down here!" He bemoans. "Sprout…my dear Sprout! Will you clean for me after I depart?"

"NO!" The giggling toddler crawls onto the floor after his 'dying' brother, sitting on his back.

"Oh the horror!"

Gordon peeks his head into the room at the commotion, grin firmly in place on the eight year old's face.

"Can I have your last peanut butter cup since you're dying?" He asks casually.

Scott reaches out to him weakly.

"You..my dear copperhead…get…nothing." He wheezes out, flopping his hand back to the ground as if he doesn't have the strength to hold it up anymore.

"Boo."

"I scared him Gordy you shoulda seen it!" Alan regales happily, little hands grabbing the back of Scott's shirt.

"He's a huge baby, Al, not really much of a win."

"The betrayal…it hurts.."

"Scotty you're silly! I din' really kill you!"

"Oh, right!" Scott pops up suddenly, scooping up his brother with a growl as the blonde squeals. "Then I can have my revenge, huh?"

Gordon rolls his eyes and walks out, although everyone is aware of the indulgent grin on the boys face. Scott tucks his flailing, laughing little brother under his arm and follows, yelling out a warning for Gordon to leave his peanut butter cup alone.

* * *

Jeff Tracy honestly thought he wouldn't be seeing any more scenes like the one he is now, but he is so glad to be proven wrong. His sons are all sprawled in front of the television, asleep as a cheesy horror movie plays on. The lights illuminate their faces in the dark living room, and it reminds him so much of when they were small and would sneak downstairs to watch TV when they were supposed to be sleeping.

Gordon is laid out on the carpet on his stomach, hand limply lying in a tub of popcorn next to him. Did he fall asleep mid-grab? Jeff doesn't think he wants to know. Virgil is curled up on the floor against the sofa next to his brother, head resting on the couch cushion. Why is he on the floor and not the sofa itself? Again, moving on.

Scott and Alan take up the corner of the sofa. His eldest is back for the weekend from college, and his youngest preteen has not left his side. It's precious to watch, as is the way Alan is cuddled against Scott, while Scott keeps a protective arm around him.

John's absence is starkly obvious, Jeff thinks sadly as he moves into the room, intending to sneak in a quick photo before he turns the television off and leaves his kids to it. But as he fumbles for his phone in the dark, he trips over the edge of the carpet.

With reflexes honed from five kids, his hand shoots out before he lands on Gordon before he realizes his arm is going to overshoot the arm of the sofa. He doesn't have time to do anything but register a jolt of panic and his phone dropping in the carpet before an arm shoots out and catches him across his mid section and stops him mid fall.

Gasping, Jeff gawks at Scott and Scott gawks right back, arm still awkwardly holding him up. Both of them seem too shocked to do anything for a second, before Scotts face forms into a smirk and Jeff rights himself with some awkward fumbling. He clears his throat awkwardly and smooths down his shirt, studiously avoiding his eldest's eyes as he bends down to pick up his phone. It's right next to Gordon's head and somehow he sleeps on, and is he drooling? Again, not worth it.

Jeff finally meets Scott's gaze, painfully aware of his flushed cheeks. His eldest just smirks back, eyes glinting mischievously as he just looks at his father silently.

"Don't you say i.."

"Just hangin' out, Dad?"

Jeff's hand twitches, just itching to slap his son upside the head. Scott grins back, completely impertinent. Jeff just schools his face into a painful smile.

"Go back to sleep." He says simply, giving Scott a meaningful stare, fully aware it won't do much.

Scott nods. "Will you be okay getting back to your room?"

Jeff ruffles his sons hair, then squeezes it gently as a warning. "Sleep. Now."

"Yuh huh." Grin firmly in place, Scott obeys, and Jeff rolls his eyes as he leaves. He's never going to live this down.


	4. Chapter 4

Part two for Scott! Sorry I'm having to do this in parts, but I'm trying my best to find the time to write and don't want to leave gaps that are too long. There might be one more part for Scott, and if you have an more ideas let me know!

* * *

When John sleepily strolls into the kitchen the three in the morning for a snack, because lol who needs sleep, he sees his older brother passed out on the counter. His laptop is sitting in front of him, long dead, and the moonlight shines straight onto his face in the dark room. Scott's head is pillowed in his arms, his hair is going every which way, and there's no slight frown on his face. Pac-man pajamas and a ratty t-shirt are a stark contrast to the sharp blues of the uniform John has gotten too used to on his brother nowadays.

The saddest part is John can't remember the last time he saw Scott truly relaxed. The poor guy is always running around taking care of every single person that he forgets to take care of himself. Sighing quietly, John decides to just leave his older brother as he is. Sure, he'll wake up with a kink in his neck, but if he wakes up now, John knows he'll never go back to sleep.

Late night snack long forgotten, John makes short work of fetching a blanket from the couch. He can't save his very deserving older brother from a sore neck, but he can make sure he stays warm.

Fond smile stretching on his lips at the snuffly breaths Scott is taking, and the fact that there's apple juice in a colorful plastic cup that just screams Gordon next to him, John gently drapes the blanket around his shoulders.

And then Scott wakes up.

There's a startled shout the second the blanket touches his shoulder, breaking through the peace and quiet of the kitchen like a knife, and Scott jerks up. John lets out a startled yelp, heart jumping into his throat as he registers a flying cup, juice flying out and wetness on his shirt and a weird cracking sound and he's wondering what that was before a back of a hand smacks him on the mouth and his bare feet slip on something wet.

Its a chaotic mess of limbs that probably only lasts a few seconds, as John instinctively tries to back away and hang onto something to stop from falling at the same time. Eventually, he's on his ass on the kitchen floor, hand instinctively checking his throbbing lip for blood and his tailbone hurting and what just happened?

Scott is looking down at him in comical surprise, eyes still heavy with sleep and one hand slowly rubbing his neck. Its a testament to how tired he is and how deeply he was asleep that Scott doesn't immediately comprehend the situation.

"You..." is all John can growl, shock and incredulity heavy in his voice.

"John?"

"Scott."

"...What just happened? What are you doing down there?"

"I just decided to spill juice on myself, smack myself across the face and fall on my ass in the middle of the night Scott, what do you think I'm doing?!"

"Why would you wake me up? You know what that does...oh." Scott's bleary eyes fall on the blanket now hanging off the back off the chair. His face softens immediately, looking back at John with a guilty but clearly touched grin.

"Oops?"

For some reason, seeing Scott so off guard and smiling as genuinely as he is makes John see the ridiculousness of the whole situation and he's laughing before he knows it. Scott joins in a second later, practically rolling around in his chair and John just collapses completely on the floor, wheezing for breath. They go through a few cycles of one of them stopping before looking at the other and breaking into hysterics once again.

Eventually, Scott gathers himself enough to offer a still giggling John a hand up, offering what John declares a pretty insincere apology as he hoists himself up. Scott gives him the blanket as a peace offering, and John accepts and shoves him very un-aggressively, mumbling about weird older brothers who owe him pizza for that smack across the face. Wet shirt discarded and thrown at Scotts head and blanket tied around his shoulders as a cape, he gets busy helping Scott clean up the mess on the floor, and it goes unspoken that this has been the nicest they've shared in quite a while.

* * *

Dust tickles his nose and he immediately holds back a sneeze, a wicked grin crossing his face as he registers the snoring coming from the bed he's hiding under. Gordon prepares to slide out, his "equipment" carefully grasped in his hand. He has to be completely quiet. One too-loud breath or "noisy" step and he's a dead man.

He sidles out extremely slowly, James Bond theme song running through his head. Once he's out, on his stomach next to the bed, he takes a moment to cherish the cooler air before he slowly gets on his hands and knees. Scott's snoring and the faint ticking of the clock are the only noises in the quiet, dark room, and Gordon is too scared to even breathe properly. Socked feet and light clothes, not to mention waiting under the bed for hours, he's really gone the whole nine yards for this.

The tube is cold in his hand as he gets to his feet, stopping every second to be absolutely certain that his brother is still sleeping. His heart is thudding so loudly he's paranoid that it might wake Scott up, but he soldiers on. The thought of having to tell Alan he's the best Tracy brother is enough to keep him moving. This is one bet he cannot afford to lose.

Once he's close enough to see Scotts face properly illuminated by the moonlight, the excitement is almost too much to handle. Victory is so close he can smell it, and taste it, and oh is it sweet. So, so sweet, he thinks to himself as he raises the can.

...and then a hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.

I am going to kill Alan is all he has time to think over his terror stricken thoughts as his brothers eyes pop open, evil grin stretching onto his face. Next second, he's flipped onto the bed, smug laughter echoing across the room as Scott sits on him, wrestles the can from his hand and proceeds to whip cream him into oblivion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Clumsy John is my fav. Plus, I feel like especially at the beginning, he must have been terrified of sleeping through a call, so was probably up at everything that sounded like an alarm.**

**Part two of John coming soon!**

* * *

Falling asleep in front of a movie in the living room is nothing new. The Tracy's have been doing it since their youngest was a toddler. They'll all sprawl in front of the television after a hard day, junk food and banter readily available, picking the worst movie they can possibly find and tearing it to pieces until the laughter chases away the stress. Once the relaxation kicks in, they crash, nodding off to sleep one by one.

Of course, the tradition continues after John's first rotation up in Thunderbird 5. It's been a long month, with International rescue newly formed. There've been rescues, and mistakes, and new experiences and it's been harrowing, to say the least. The pressure is high, and while they love the exhilaration, it's been hard.

Their father gives them the night off, and in true spirit, they convene in the living room with enough popcorn and candy and soda to feed an army. Gordon picks out an ancient horror movie with more fake blood than should be acceptable, and they laugh and poke and throw popcorn at each other until they stop seeing the real life horrors that are going to be their new reality.

Alan falls asleep first, on the floor against Scotts legs, a piece of licorice hanging out of his mouth until his big brother rescues it, cringing at the saliva. John is the next to go, the familiar company he's so missed this last month lulling him to sleep much quicker than normal. He's claimed the good armchair, as well as the popcorn, because he "deserves it after space food", and almost drops the whole bowl until Virgil steals it off of him at the last second.

At Johns feet, him and Gordon continue their now hushed argument over how realistic man eating bugs really are. More popcorn is being thrown at each other than is being eaten, and Scott glances at them occasionally, too exhausted to do anything other than lie stationary with a fond smile until he falls asleep, his youngest brother a warm weight against his legs.

Soon, there is silence. Virgil falls asleep tipped over Gordon's legs, and his younger brother rolls his eyes at him tiredly before going back to the movie. Scott smiles, closing his eyes and wondering wether he should mute the sound, although it seems to make no difference to his dozing brothers.

There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to what happens next. There's a woman screaming, and the sound cuts to an alarm clock, and suddenly there's a gasp and frantic shuffling. Scott's eyes whip open and he lurches up in time to see John jump out of his seat, trip and fall over a sleeping Virgil who's eyes bulge open with a pained gasp, and bash his head on the coffee table.

"John!"

He's out of his seat in a flash, dislodging a yelping Alan and getting on his knees next to John, who's groaning and clutching his head. Gordon is already there, John half sprawled on him.

"Jeez, are you okay?"

"Nnnh, yeah" he groans out, blinking his eyes open. Virgil immediately moves forward to check his pupils, producing a penlight out of nowhere.

"They look fine." He declares, moving his finger in front of John's eyes. John obediently follows, looking mildly frustrated. The fact that he's awake and getting annoyed is enough to send a wave of relief through Scott, and he sits back. There's no break in skin even, just the beginnings of a goose egg,

"John, what the hell were you doing?"

"I..." John seems confused for a second, and then his face morphs into something...sheepish? "I just...had to go the bathroom really bad"

Gordon just looks at him. "You bashed your head because you had to pee?"

"I was sleepy, I didn't pay attention."

Everyone just stares at John, who's blushing now. He's never been a very good liar, and with all the scrutiny, it's only a matter of time.

"Alright, fine!" He snaps, with the air of a person who knows he's going to get tortured. "I heard an alarm and I forgot where I was!"

Gordon is the first one to connect the dots, and he starts sputtering with laughter. Everyone else just looks at John until he sighs.

"It sounded like the alarm on Thunderbird 5″ He mumbles, glaring sullenly at Gordon, curled up on the floor laughing.

Alan joins him at the words, and Scott finds himself unable to resist. The picture of John, panicked and flailing as he fell over, has a whole new meaning and he finds himself cackling.

John is very close to pouting, and Virgil just gives him a sympathetic look and pats him on the shoulder, but stops mid pat with a gasp of pain, other hand dropping the penlight and curling around his side.

"Virg?" Concern bubbles up in Scott again as he see's Virgil pale in even the dim light. His younger brother waves him off, face set in a grimace.

"I'm fine...John kinda kicked me awake."

John looks horrified, straightening up and reaching out to Virgil. "Shit, I did. Pretty hard, too, are you okay?"

Scott's already lifting up his brothers shirt, running his hands over the newly forming bruise. Virgil's breath hitches in his throat as Scott's fingers feel for breaks, sounding as if he's holding back a moan.

"I don't think anything's broken. Definitely bruised."

"Jesus, Virg." John just stares at Virgil, guilt heavy on his face "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, don't worry about it." Virgil sighs, sitting back gingerly. "I'm pretty sure that goose egg is punishment enough."

"You two are unbelievable. A whole month of burning buildings and earthquakes and _space_, and everyone comes out in one piece, and one movie night and you _both_ hurt yourself?"

Really, it's ridiculous, and Scott feels he's rightfully annoyed. The reaction is instantaneous.

"I didn't do anything, John's the one who kicked me!"

"What...I said I was sorry! And you were the one lying in my way!"

"I fell asleep! I didn't know your space-addled brain would forget it was on Earth!"

"I wouldn't have tripped and hit my head if you hadn't been in the way!"

"Guys..."

"You wouldn't have tripped and hit your head if you weren't a clumsy oaf!"

"How is it clumsy to trip over your idiot younger brother sleeping on the damn floor?"

Scott can feel two pairs of amused eyes on him, and he's pretty sure if he gives in to the urge to roll his eyes, he'll do it too hard and they'll get stuck that way. Ever the picture of maturity, he just presses the button on his watch to get brains to come check his supposedly adult brothers out.

And maybe give him some sleeping pills. And aspirin. Maybe even some ear plugs...

* * *

There are no more incidents for the two weeks John is down. Him and Virgil, both the most laid back members of the family, instantly go back to normal after Brains diagnoses a bruised rib and a mild concussion and their father can't do anything but laugh helplessly at the story.

Scott has to resist the urge to face palm or roll his eyes every time he sees the bruise on John's forehead or Virgil grimacing when he moves the wrong way. It doesn't stop him from cuffing each of his younger brothers whenever they grin at his long-suffering look of despair.

* * *

When John comes down for a break, Gordon meets him at the hangar and clutches at his leg, begging his older brother to make some freshly baked gingerbread cookies. Apparently, no one can make them quite like John does, and couldn't his favorite big brother just bake him some this very day because he's clearly dying without it. He doesn't let up until John loses his balance from a clingy kid brother dragging behind him as he tries to walk, and Gordon sits on him for a few minutes until his older brother finally agrees (and threatens to launch him into space if he doesn't get off, but hey, it worked).

Two hours later, John finds himself slumped on the kitchen counter, in the oven. He's so tired he can't see straight, but he's never been able to refuse Gordon. He's his kid brother, and everyone (including Gordon), knows John's got a soft spot for him. Still, it feels good to do something normal. His days seem to consist of frantic rescue calls and maintenance, and it seems strange to do something as ordinary as baking.

He's perfectly aware the cookies will take over an hour, and he could easily use that time to get cleaned up and maybe get something to eat, but he's got his head pillowed in his arms and the smell of gingerbread lingering is so homely comforting that John nods off before he even realizes it.

Family members go in and out of the kitchen, seeing their resident astronaut dozing at the counter, hands and clothes covered in flour and blond hair flopping everywhere. They sigh or coo, and quietly get what they came for and leave. Everyone knows how tired he's been, so no one is willing to wake him up.

The oven timer has no such qualms, and goes off right when the two hours are up, the shrill beeping piercing the quiet kitchen atmosphere.

Gordon had been at the oven, peeking in and counting down with glee to the moment his precious cookies would be done, hands mitted and ready. He does a little wiggle of glee the moment the timer goes off, but then he's distracted by sudden movement.

He turns back to see John straighten up out of the stool he's sitting on so fast, it seems to tip over to the side. There's a weird moment where they lock eyes, and Gordon can see the stool tipping, and it seems like Johns figured out whats happening and subconsciously moves his upper body to the opposite side to compensate, but the it's tipped too far and his older brother is just...falling over with his body in an almost forty five degree angle, arms flailing.

It's like watching a train wreck, where you know what's happening, but you just can't look away.

It's also the greatest moment of his young life.

There's an almighty crash when the stool and John make contact with the flood, and Gordon can only stare comically, mitten covered hands still raised towards the oven, before he's laughing so hard and so suddenly he starts choking, but he still can't stop.

John's a groaning heap on the floor, disorientated and still half asleep, but seemingly okay. He looks up at the beeping alarm, and his red headed terror prone on the floor with laughter, and collapses back down on the floor again with a groan.

He can hear footsteps rushing toward the kitchen, and he just knows deep in his heart his loving family is never going to let him live this down.

He should have stayed up in Thunderbird Five, he muses, hip throbbing and the smell of burnt cookies starting to make its way into the air.

Gravity was much kinder to him up there.


End file.
